


your heart (all i own)

by astralscrivener



Series: modern au: squad up universe [12]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Declarations Of Love, Established Keith/Lance (Voltron), Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Lance (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 16:53:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14000466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralscrivener/pseuds/astralscrivener
Summary: c is for comfort.“Wait, Lance—please don’t make it a big deal, it’s...not that serious. It’s just me. Overreacting. As usual. I-It’s nothing. I’m sorry I called.”“Up-bup-bup, no sirree, no apologies here. It’s obviously a big deal to you. Your anxiety can fuck right off with thatnot importantstuff.”Keith's still not used to being someone's priority. Lance is there for him.





	your heart (all i own)

**Author's Note:**

> i had this sitting around in my drafts for several months before i rewrote it
> 
> here it is
> 
> (also idk where in the SU timeline this fits, probably somewhere between chapters 100 and 111. okay have fun)

**c. comfort**

                Ridiculous—he was being absolutely _ridiculous_ about this.

                Keith lay back on his bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on the ceiling, an arm thrown over his forehead. The words of Lance’s ex-girlfriend, Nyma, played on repeat in his head, a sinister soundtrack he couldn’t rid himself of no matter how hard he tried.

                _“You weren’t his first, or even his second choice. You were his_ third, _and he probably just settled because you were both_ desperate _for someone.”_

                It was a lie, and he knew it was a lie, and yet somehow, he ended up here anyway: declining an invite to Lance’s house after school. The ride home was riddled with awkwardness, and when Lance asked him about it, Keith lied. He fucking _lied_ and made up a migraine to cover for himself. Keith wondered now if Lance even bought the story, or if he knew on some deeper level, as he often did, that Keith just didn’t want to talk.

                _He probably knows something else is going on, and you fucked it up for yourself. As usual._

                Keith would admit that communication was never his strong suit, but he was trying, _dammit,_ he was trying so hard. Lance was _easy_ to talk to. The two of them boasted their _wonderful, loving, healthy, constantly-communicative_ relationship every chance they got, and yet, here Keith was, beating himself up because he couldn’t tell Lance he was insecure.

                “Just call him, dammit,” Keith muttered to himself, and the arm on his forehead fell across his eyes as he groaned.

                Keith lay still for another few minutes until he finally groaned again, rolled over, and reached for his phone, sitting on his nightside table. He didn’t dial right away—he turned his phone on, and held it high above his head, scrolling through his new notifications. He should’ve expected the several from Lance.

 **starboy <3  
**just checkin in

 **starboy <3**  
u sure ur okay???

 **starboy <3**  
sdjhgjkhfgfsk you have a migraine you’re probably asleep

 **starboy <3  
**ANYWAY feel better soon!!

 **starboy <3**  
ily baby <33333

                Keith groaned louder.

                “Would you _stop that?_ ”

                Lance being cute wasn’t helping his situation. If anything, it made Keith feel all the worse, because here was Lance, checking on him, making sure he was alright, taking fucking care of him, and here he was, wallowing in his own misery without another thought. Lance _had feelings too,_ and Keith should’ve been prioritizing them, instead of shutting him out.

                _Put on your big boy pants, Kogane. Call him. Don’t let this fester._

                Some masochistic part of him almost set his phone back down at that thought. If he let it fester, Lance would have no choice but to cut him off, and Keith could finish the job and cut himself from the rest of their friend group. Then he could go back to lone-wolfing it, and worrying about no one’s back but his own. Going to college next year would make it _so damn easy—_

_Stop it. Call him. Now._

                Keith scowled, at himself and at the entire situation, and unlocked his phone. He opened the phone app and switched to his favorites tab. Lance’s number was at the very top; even Shiro, Keith’s cousin and legal guardian, couldn’t secure that spot.

                Keith pressed down on Lance’s contact.

                Lance answered after two rings.

                _“Hey, babe, what’s up?”_

                _Oh God. Stop. You can’t do this._

                “Um...wow, shit, this is not how I wanted to start this call,” Keith said, tripping over his words not even _five fucking seconds into it._ “Uh...listen...I lied. A-About the migraine.”

                Lance paused on the other end, and then sighed like he knew this was coming. _“I had a feeling, but I didn’t wanna push it. Talk to me, Mulletman. What’s going on?”_

                Keith’s hand curled tighter around his phone. Lance gave him boundless patience where he deserved none. Keith wanted to hate him for it, wanted to hate Lance for being so genuinely _good_ , even when he should’ve known he’d been slighted.

                “I...I want—no, I need to...to talk to you.” Keith pressed the heel of his hand into his eye, the other eye tracking the constellations he and Lance had worked hard to replicate on the ceiling. It roved over Ursa Major, over Draco and Cassiopeia. “Can you come over?”

 _“I have a better idea,”_ Lance replied, and in the split second he took to breathe, Keith’s mind ran wild. He knew Lance’s voice well enough to construct sentences of his own; in his head, he could hear Lance’s next words: _Why don’t we just break up? I’m sick of dealing with your issues. Why don’t we never contact each other ever again, and your self-isolating ass can be alone all it wants, and I can get someone who doesn’t make me feel like shit every time they decide they don’t wanna talk?_

                But those were not Lance’s next words.

_“Dress warm. Preferably in shoes and maybe pants you wouldn’t mind getting a bit sandy. I’ll leave as soon as we’re done here.”_

                _Shit, no._

                “Wait, Lance—please don’t make it a big deal, it’s...not that serious. It’s just me. Overreacting. As usual. I-It’s nothing. I’m sorry I called.”

                _“Up-bup-bup, no sirree, no apologies here. It’s obviously a big deal to you. Your anxiety can fuck right off with that_ not important _stuff.”_

“Really,” Keith insisted. “It’s...I’m...it’s just something Nyma said to me. I-I know I shouldn’t let what she said get to me, but...it’s...I’ll get through it. I’ll be okay.”

                _“Are you telling me this because you_ don’t _wanna go to the beach with me, or because you think you’re being a burden?”_

                Keith didn’t answer, and his silence became answer enough.

                _“Keith, what did she say to you?”_

                _Just tell him._

                Why was he so afraid to tell _Lance?_ Once Keith got to know Lance, and they dropped the rivalry, or whatever that thing from freshman year had been, he got to know one of the sweetest, most patient and selfless people in the school. He was Keith’s damn _boyfriend!_ He should’ve had no problems—

                _“Keith?”_

                “Sorry, I was zoning,” Keith said. “Um. Ugh, you’re going to tell me I’m being ridiculous.”

                _“I won’t. I promise. What’s bothering you?”_

                Keith hesitated, wishing he’d never called in the first place. People knew him as being decisive and impulsive, someone who knew what he was doing and showed no remorse for it. No second-guessing. And here he was, afraid of a phone conversation with the last person he should’ve been afraid of.

                “She...um. Fuck. Lance, you love me, right?”

                He could practically see Lance freeze up on the other end.

                _“Yes? Keith, what did she tell you? Like, doesn’t have to be word-for-word, but…”_

                “She said we were both desperate,” Keith finally spat out. “She said I was your third choice and you probably just settled because you wanted to have a relationship, which I know is ridiculous but I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I pushed you away and _I’m sorry_ , I should’ve said something sooner—”

                _“Hey, hey, hey, you’re fine. Not your fault. Listen, you’re definitely not a_ third choice, _and I definitely didn’t settle. I love you. You still wanna go to the beach, and we can talk more there?”_

                Keith relaxed as Lance talked, and pushed hair from his face, letting it all fall back on his pillow.

                “Yeah,” Keith breathed out. “Yeah, I’d like that. I really need to see you.”

                _“Sea you? Did you just make a beach joke?”_

                Keith sat up. “Wha—oh. No, wasn’t trying.”

                _“You totally did, though.”_

                Keith sighed, but smiled tentatively. “Sure, Lance. Believe what you want.”

                _“I’m absolutely going to. Now get ready. You want me stay on the line?”_

                Keith considered it. Hearing Lance’s voice was nice, and kept Keith anchored when he felt like floating away, but it would just be a few minutes.

                “Nah,” Keith said. “I’ll be okay. Drive safe, alright?”

                _“Safe is my middle name,”_ Lance replied cheekily, and Keith imagined Lance, tearing down the street with his little niece and nephew in the back seat, Keith in the passenger, making them all swear up and down that his sister _does not hear about this, do you understand?_

                “Your middle name is Charles,” Keith responded.

                _“Oh hush, Akira,”_ Lance said. _“I’m gonna leave now. I’ll be there soon. Love you.”_

                “I love you, too,” Keith said, and after a moment, ended the call.

                He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got moving. He didn’t particularly feel like changing his pants—he could do it later, and if they got dirty, oh well. He had a washing machine. He tugged on a pair of hiking boots, and the combination of boots and pants had a 50/50 chance of giving Lance a fashion aneurysm.

                Keith smiled at the thought—Lance gesticulating wildly, pointing out that _you’re committing a fashion_ crime, _Keith, what the hell are you doing?_

                Keith tugged on his gloves next. Despite the weather, they were still his leather, fingerless ones, instead of something more sensible, like cotton or wool.

                Before he put on his left glove, he slid off his promise ring and set it on the nightside table. For a minute or two he simply stared at it. He remembered the afternoon he went to get it; he’d lied to Lance then, too, and said he had a doctor’s appointment.  In reality, he was out with Shiro purchasing the rings. And then there was the night he’d actually given it to Lance.

                He hadn’t meant to. He’d meant to wait until the night of some Halloween party they were going to, but waiting to create a moment seemed too forced. The moment had been perfect right _then:_ the two of them, underneath the blinding stadium lights at the football field, huddled under a fuzzy shark blanket at the drama club’s bake sale table.

                Neither of them particularly enjoyed getting overly-emotional in front of people. Especially not when there were tears involved. But Lance’s eyes had welled up, and Keith knew it was over. He’d given in and let himself cry, too, because it was Lance, and Lance was all that mattered.

                _And you’re still so concerned that he doesn’t love you. Pathetic._

                Keith’s smile faded with the thought, and he snapped from his trance and finished pulling his glove on. Then he slid the promise ring back on, and clenched his fist, and felt the band press into his glove and his skin.

                _You’re in this together._

                Keith unclenched his fist and kept moving. He took his beanie from his desk, and had it halfway on when he heard a car pull into the driveway. Seconds later, the engine cut out, and the door opened and shut. Keith peered out the window, at Lance making his way up the driveway, and then up the path to the front door. Something in Keith’s stomach unraveled at the sight.

                Lance knew where the spare key was. Keith listened to the front door unlocking, opening, and closing, and Lance making his way up the stairs. He knocked on Keith’s door.

                “It’s open,” Keith said.

                The door swung in, and Lance launched himself at Keith, tackling him in a hug that nearly knocked him over. One arm was tight around the small of his back, while his other hand tangled in Keith’s hair, knocking the beanie right off of his head.

                “Whoa, hey,” Keith said, and wrapped his arms around Lance. “Wha—”

                “You know I love you, right?” Lance said into Keith’s neck. “I love you _so much._ Nothing’s gonna change that. Don’t let my ex—don’t let _anyone_ try and tell you otherwise. This isn’t me settling. This is me choosing you.”

                Oh.

                A lump formed in Keith’s throat, quickly, painfully. Keith settled his face into the crook of Lance’s neck and melted into his touch. He closed his eyes, and focused in on the sensation of Lance’s fingers running through his hair, gently scratching his head. Focused in on the sensation of Lance’s breath, warm on his neck.

                “I’d choose you over and over again. Every time,” Lance murmured.

                Keith nodded. An apology made its way to his lips and died; he had no need, and Lance would tell him as much.

                “You good?” Lance asked, after some time, time spent rubbing circles on Keith’s back. “You wanna get going?”

                “Hold on,” Keith mumbled.

                “Holding,” Lance replied.

                Keith could’ve stayed there forever. Lance probably would’ve let him if he asked. Keith smiled against Lance’s skin, and breathed in his scent: fruity shampoo, the pine of a new car freshener, and the fabric softener his mom used.

                “Okay,” Keith finally said, and slowly pulled back, “I think I’m good.”

                “Good,” Lance said. “Now, take this.”

                As soon as they pulled apart, Lance shrugged off his signature green jacket, one Keith stole whenever he could, but gave back just as often, solely because it was Lance’s favorite—a family hand-me-down from his father to his brother, and then to him.

                “Lance, it’s freezing—”

                “You know you want to,” Lance interrupted.

                Keith sighed in defeat, not unhappily, and surrendered. Lance purposely helped Keith into the jacket, and as soon as it was on, he yanked the hood over Keith’s head and brought him in for a kiss.

                Keith grabbed Lance by the hips as they kissed and tugged him closer. Lance apparently wasn’t expecting it; he lost his footing and stumbled, back hitting Keith’s bed, bringing Keith down on top of him.

                “Didn’t realize you were so eager,” Keith said, grinning. Lance broke the kiss, eyes wide.

                “You—!”

                “Me.”

                Lance released Keith and flopped back. “That’s it, beach trip cancelled, we’re staying here.”

                “ _Noooo_ ,” Keith fake-whined, rising to his feet and tugging at Lance. “You gave me your jacket, now we have to go.”

                “Yeah, you’re right. Gotta show you off to everyone,” Lance said.

                Keith blushed and extended a hand to Lance. Lance took it, but didn’t get up right away. He laced his fingers with Keith’s.

                “Mmm...this feels nice,” Lance said.

                “Come on, get up,” Keith replied, and yanked. Lance grinned and collapsed back into Keith, and this time, Keith stumbled, and backed into his desk.

                Lance grinned down at him. “Seems like I’m not the only eager one.”

                “Shut up,” Keith said.

                Lance kept grinning as he let go of Keith and stooped down, and picked up Keith’s fallen beanie. He placed it atop his own head, instead of giving it back. “Mine now.”

                Keith shrugged. “You look good, and I’m not going to deprive myself of such a pretty view.”

                He grinned and hummed to himself as Lance turned red, and started for the door.

                “You—you can’t just say that!” Lance said, and ran after Keith. Keith broke into a sprint, down the hall, laughter echoing in the emptiness around him. He pounded down the stairs, and Lance threw himself onto the banister.

                “Can and did!” Keith shouted back.

                His fingers locked around the knob of the front door when Lance caught up to him and threw his arms around him from behind. They spun, Lance’s back hitting the wall while Keith struggled to break free. The both of them were still laughing; Keith ceased his escape attempts and doubled over, while Lance laughed even harder.

                “I win,” Lance breathed, and Keith managed a weak thumb’s-up.

                “Yeah, you did.”

                They took their time gathering their bearings. Lance seemed unwilling to let go of Keith, and Keith seemed just as reluctant to be let go of. They straightened out slowly, while Lance started humming and swaying back and forth.

                Keith closed his eyes and leaned back and let Lance lead. He slid his hands over Lance’s and held on, while Lance leaned his head against Keith’s.

                “Mi corazón te pertenece, cariño,” Lance murmured.

                Keith’s heart threatened to burst out of his chest as warmth and affection flooded his system, and fresh tears pricked his eyes.

                “Lance—”

                “Te amo. Te amo ahora y siempre. Eres mi todo.”

                _Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry._

                Keith blinked rapidly, until his eyes were as clear as they could be.

                “Lance,” Keith tried again, “we should get go—”

                The front door opened at that moment, nearly swinging right into the two of them. They stumbled apart as Shiro walked into the house, carrying in a Target bag full of...something. Items Keith wasn’t too concerned about at the moment.

                “You know, I thought I recognized Lance’s car in the driveway,” Shiro remarked.

                Lance raised his hand in greeting, face entirely red. “Hey, Shiro…”

                Shiro narrowed his eyes and frowned, studying Lance and Keith before he sighed and turned away. “I’m sorry about whatever I interrupted. Carry on! Act like I don’t live here! I’ll go cuddle my cat, I’m sure she cares! It’s fine!”

                “We were just leaving! Off to the beach! Bye!” Keith called after him. He grabbed Lance’s wrist, opened the door, and yanked Lance onto the porch, and then shut the door behind them.

                “Does being a drama queen run in the family?” Lance asked in amusement, while Keith’s hand slid down from his wrist to his hand.

                “Absolutely,” Keith answered.

                He only let go of Lance’s hand to climb into the passenger seat of Lance’s car, while Lance got in on the driver’s side. As soon as they were buckled up, and Lance had the engine and heat going, they grabbed hands once more.

                The sun traveled ever-closer to the horizon as Lance drove around the backroads of town, avoiding the evening rush hour. He wove through quiet neighborhoods lined with trees, mailboxes and driveways peeking out between them, while houses rested nestled further back. At a handful of the many they passed, Keith spotted kids playing out in the front yard, despite the temperature and hour.

                His heart twinged at the sight. He’d be lying if he said he’d never imagined himself as one of those children, with his mom and dad both present, and maybe even a sibling or two. A happy little family.

                Lance squeezed Keith’s hand.

                Neither of them had looked at each other. They didn’t _have_ to. Years ago, a relationship like this seemed impossible. All Keith had known for an unfortunate stretch was distance, separation. Bottling his feelings until he could find the time to deal with them on his own. People falling for it when he said he was fine.

                Enter Lance. Enter infuriating, cheeky, narcissistic Lance.

                Enter another boy with facades of his own, who knew exactly how to make Keith’s walls come down.

                “Someday,” Lance said quietly.

                Keith leaned back, smiling hesitantly at the houses out the window. Someday, the little girl shooting a basketball in the driveway would be _their_ daughter. The little boy chasing his dog would be _their_ little boy, chasing _their_ dog.

                “Someday,” Keith echoed in agreement.

                The rest of the ride carried out in easy silence, save for the low-volume news reports from the radio station Lance hadn’t bothered changing when they first got into the car. When they got to the beach, they arrived to an empty parking lot. Lance pulled up near the destination he’d been thinking about: a strip of large, flat-topped rocks, a walkway jutting about fifty feet into the water.

                Lance and Keith exited the car and started down the beach, leisurely strolling through sand packed down by the leftover snow from the last storm. Beyond the shore, the waves churned with slush, while the horizon indicated another storm on its way within the next couple days.

                Lance continued walking even when Keith paused and took out his phone. Keith smiled and snapped photos, both of him and the scene before them. Then he pocketed his phone and ran the few feet to return to Lance’s side.

                When they reached the rocks, Lance climbed up first, and then offered a hand down to Keith—a hand he didn’t really need, but took anyway, and didn’t let go of once he was up.

                Neither of them spoke. The beach was a special spot for Lance, and it was quietest at this time of year. There was something ethereal about it; about the shade of the darkening sky, barely reflecting on the water; about the snow invading a summer hotspot; about the sound of the waves lapping shore.

                Lance finally tugged on Keith’s hand when they reached the end of the walkway, and they sat, bodies pressed together. Lance interlocked their fingers and rubbed his thumb over Keith’s, while Keith leaned his head on Lance’s shoulder.

                “You know I mean everything I say, right?” Lance asked, after some time.

                “Yeah,” Keith replied.

                “I’m serious,” Lance continued. “Those—those aren’t empty promises. I mean it. I...as much of a flirt as I used to be...I’ve never made promises like that. Ever. You’re... _Dios mio_. You’re the one, Keith. I don’t say that lightly. Don’t...don’t let anyone, especially not _Nyma,_ tell you anything else.”

                _You’re the one._

                “There’s this sort of analogy I came up with,” Lance said, when Keith didn’t reply. “I know you. I know you’ve wondered what set you apart from everyone else. A-And what set you apart from Plax and Nyma.”

                Keith swallowed.

                “Uh...yeah, I guess.”

                Lance laughed nervously, and Keith wasn’t sure whether the following squeeze on his hand was voluntary or involuntary.

                “I thought about it in terms of places,” Lance said. “First there was Plax. She’s the park. Our relationship was easygoing, and at the time, it seemed like it could go on a while. You know, you’re at the park and you’re like, _oh, I could totally sit here for hours, I could practically live here._ It was like that. The longer it went on, the more the charm of it wore off. I realized I was sitting on a few pieces of wood surrounded by a bunch of grass and trees, doing nothing. We’re still friends, obviously, we get along fine...but it was never something that would’ve lasted.”

                Was Keith jealous to hear Lance talking about a former flame in even a mildly positive light? Maybe. Maybe just a little. But the feeling faded as quickly as it came; over the near-two years of his relationship with Lance, he learned to tamp down his jealousies, until they were gone. He had nothing to worry about, and if he had a worry, Lance was there to reassure him.

                Just like he was now.

                “And then Nyma…”

                Keith looked sidelong at Lance, but Lance’s eyes were fixed on the ocean ahead.

                “I compared Nyma to an amusement park,” Lance said, and then cringed, “which probably isn’t the best analogy for it, but it’s the best _I’ve_ got, because I’m not willing to spend that many brain cells on her. But anyway. Amusement park. My relationship with her got a lot more intense a lot faster than mine with Plax did. At the beginning, it looked like we had endless fun ahead, you know?”

                Unfortunately, Keith did know.

                At one point, Nyma had been in the drama club, and during the fall play of their sophomore year, Keith had been subject to watching her public displays of affection with Lance. Then Keith retaliated by hiding Lance’s props and blaming the ensuing chaos on another sophomore.

                “And then we got deeper into it,” Lance said, “and I became miserable. Like when you make the mistake of eating a hot dog or two and then going on the teacups, or a roller coaster, and you spend the entire ride wanting to puke. I wanted out. I wanted to leave.”

                Lance turned to Keith, eyes soft. “I wanted to go home. And that’s you.”

                _How many times are you going to try and make me cry today? Is it your personal mission or something?_ Keith thought, as his eyes grew glassy.

                “You were there even when I thought I hated you. Even from before high school, back when Hunk met Pidge and then Pidge mentioned you. You were this constant in my life—always there, even when I thought I didn’t want it. Something I kept coming back to. And then I realized that I _wanted_ to come back to you. You were _always there._ You didn’t need to comfort me when Nyma cussed me out, but you did. You didn’t need to give me a ride home, but you did. Even back in freshman year, you didn’t need to help me with my costume, and I didn’t need to help you with that door, but...damn. _Damn,_ there’s way too much salt in the air...”

                Lance blinked, and Keith realized then that he wasn’t the only one crying. A tear broke free and slipped down Lance’s face. Keith turned his whole body toward Lance, and reached his free hand up to Lance’s face, and brushed the tear away. Lance turned, too, and wrapped his hand around Keith’s wrist, holding it in place.

                “It kills me inside,” Lance said, voice strained, as though it was seconds away from breaking, “to see you beat yourself up. It kills me when you think you’re not good enough. It kills me when people try to tell you you’re worthless, because you’re _not._ You’re worth _everything_ to me, and I’ll tell you as often as I need to. You deserve the damn _world,_ Keith. And I’ll do everything I can to give it to you.”

                If Lance’s voice was near breaking, then Keith’s never stood a chance.

                “You idiot,” Keith choked out, and unlaced their hands to cup his face. “You already gave me the world the day you became my boyfriend.”

                Then Keith leaned forward and kissed him.

                Lance’s shock hardly lasted a second. He moved with Keith, as he always did. He released Keith’s wrist and slid his hands down to Keith’s hips and held them both steady.

                Lance’s lips were warm, and Keith tasted salt. Whether from his tears or his own tears or the sea breeze, he couldn’t tell, and didn’t particularly care.

                Keith opened his mouth to breathe, and ended up breathing through his nose, because Lance seized his opportunity to deepen the kiss. Keith moved one of his hands to Lance’s shoulder and drew him closer, and then slid his other arm around Lance’s neck.

                They kissed until they couldn’t. When Keith opened his eyes again, the sun had disappeared, and the sky shone an inky blue-purple. Waves still broke around them, the ocean spray chillier than it had been when they first got here.

                “Te amo,” Keith whispered.

                He’d learned a considerable amount of Spanish over his time dating Lance—plenty of words he recognized by sound and sight—but constructing sentences on his own was still somewhat of a struggle. But this? _This_ he’d learned quickly. The first time he’d said it, out of the blue, Lance nearly went into cardiac arrest.

                He still reddened this time, mouth curving into the doofy grin Keith adored.

                “Igualmente,” Lance said.

                Lance leaned his forehead against Keith’s. They sat like that for a long time, silent, drinking in the other’s existence. The thought crossed Keith’s mind to get up and start back for the car, before it got too dark, but he squashed it. He needed this, and he’d relish in every second of it.

                Lance ended up being the one to rise first. Keith’s arm slid down from his neck to his waist, and Lance dropped his arm around Keith’s shoulders.

                “Thank you,” Keith said, as they walked along the rocks at a snail’s pace.

                Lance glanced at him. “For what?”

                Keith gestured vaguely in front of them. “This.”

                “Of course,” Lance said, and jostled him. “I’m not gonna let you sit in your room and be all sad, am I? Hell no. And I know you would do the same. One of us falls, the other’s there to pick his ass back up.”

                They jumped down from the rocks and back onto sand and snow—Lance first, and Keith following suit.

                They were shivering by the time they reached Lance’s car. They climbed in slowly, bodies still stiff with cold. Lance started the engine and turned on the heat, and then leaned back while he waited for it to kick in. His nose and ears and cheeks had all turned pinkish in the cold. Keith smiled at him and averted his eyes, to the ocean stretching out beyond them.

                “Alright,” Lance said, once the heat reached a suitable level, and the two of them began defrosting, “let’s get you home.”

                Keith gripped Lance’s hand when it was safe to do so, and said, “I’m already home.”

                Lance looked at Keith out of the corner of his eye and blushed.

                “Me too,” he said, and returned his gaze to the road. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> :)
> 
> spanish translations:  
> -My heart belongs to you.  
> -I love you. I love you now and forever. You are my everything.  
> -I love you.  
> -Likewise/you too/etc.
> 
> (if i fucked up on the translations lemme know, i did my best to get multiple sources but yknow, i'm not a native speaker, so)
> 
> anyway the next prompt is obviously prompt d and prompt d is gonna be a sequel to the prompt b fic, **[bare my skin, count my sins](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13942128)** , so be on the lookout for that ;)
> 
> see ya later


End file.
